


Ephemera: Morgan Hault (Selected Letters)

by blessedharlot



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Dirty Talk, Ephemera - Freeform, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-20 00:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessedharlot/pseuds/blessedharlot
Summary: Selected private Codex communiques to and from Obscurist Magnus Morgan Hault, primarily with Scholar Jess Brightwell of the Print Media Division, Great Library of Alexandria





	Ephemera: Morgan Hault (Selected Letters)

**Codex-transmitted letter from Scholar Jess Brightwell to Obscurist Magnus Morgan Hault**

I know you’re long asleep, in a bed that isn’t ours. And I know how little about your day tomorrow you’re looking forward to. This sort of drudgery - the endless pageantry of being a head of state - isn’t why you swallowed all your fears and took this mantle of leadership for the Obscurists. It isn’t why you took this leap to write your name in every history book, after staking everything you had over and over again on finding your own anonymity.

But I’m glad for your determination to do this. I’m glad for the trust put in you to do this. I’m glad for the unnamed strife you prevent, greasing all these diplomatic wheels. I’m glad for any chance you have to time with fellow curator Khalila on your mission... who I know full well is enjoying all this Curia diplomacy, against any good sense. As I write that, I realize the eight of us haven’t been in a room all together for nearly a year now. That’s a stunningly bad oversight that we should correct soon. Our own time apart - you and I - certainly protects our family record of being the couple least frequently in the same room at the same time. It seems we only just moved in together before our careers took us both careening around the world.

I really don’t know why I’m droning on, telling you things you already well know… except that writing this to you tonight makes me feel closer, just for a few moments. I miss you. I miss you by my side, seeing the world with me. I miss the gentle weight of your hair across my chest, the press of your curves into my hand. I miss all the tenderest places I get to touch you and the tone of your voice when you feel ecstasy. 

This is terrible poetry that I should never send, except that I will. Because we get little enough shared between us as it is.

I’m so proud of you, every time I read about a decision of yours that impacts so many lives. Every time you trust your heart. Every time I get to see you walk in a room. Every time I see you flaunt your bare neck to a new world… a new world that your bravery and strength helped birth. Please don’t miss how you’ve changed the world, just being you… your ferocity and your love. We’ve talked so much about what we want out of the future… about how neither one of us feels right being a parent. And I still feel that way. And I don’t know what I’m trying to say, except that... when I see Khalila and Dario with their kids, I feel the same sort of feeling that I do when I look at Nic and Chris with the rest of us, and it's the same feeling I have when I see you, simply and easily changing the world around you. It's a pride so deep, I've got no idea what to do with it.

I wish I were a poet so I could explain how much better the world is with you in it. That’s what’s on my mind tonight, so I’ll be sure to hit transmit when I finish this drivel. No matter how badly I say it, you still need to hear it.

I adore you,

Jess

**Codex-transmitted letter from Obscurist Magnus Morgan Hault to Scholar Jess Brightwell, two days later**

Jess,

I miss you so much. It is an everpresent part of my days that I crave your scent and your skin and your cleverness so much, I can't bear it sometimes. You'd think I'd be more practiced at it by now, but I'm not. 

Having Khalila on this leg of the trip is indeed delightful; one of the ways we pass the time traveling is pretending to be you and Dario. We comment on the scenery, play cards, notice beautiful people, all the while doing our best impressions of you (Khalila has gotten quite good at impersonating you, by the way!) It began as a joke and has blossomed into "Dario" now owing us a small amount of gambling debt. Even while impersonating Dario, Khalila is still the worst card player among us.

I have threatened my transportation officer with banishment (I haven't decided where yet) if he can't get me a day in Copenhagen with you some time later this month, when our schedules suggest they might be capable of being sewn together a while. We certainly didn't think these careers through the way Nic and Chris did. Even Dario and Khalila get to work together more often than not. Perhaps I need to truly throw my weight around and fabricate a reason the Obscurists should go into the publishing business? I'm afraid it's that, or one of us joining the High Garda to protect the other. I suppose I could give it a shot. You wouldn't consider reenlisting, would you?

No, please don't give that joke a moment's thought, I can't bear the thought of you doing anything else but what you do. Your eyes light up when you talk about it. I can hear the love in your voice. I can feel it in your pen when you write about it. You speak so much of what I contribute to the world and you ignore how you've shaped the history of the printing press, and all it's done for all of us. No one else could have cultivated such a nourishing relationship between the Library and printers all over the world. The Library is remaining relevant on this earth because of your work. No one else could have gotten books into so many people’s hands. That’s you. I’m so proud of you.

All of this - while deeply true - is to delay me getting to my most relevant points regarding you and me, and your person and my person, while I am surrounded by foreign sourpusses and currently trapped in a gown that should not get wet. But if I could merely get my hands on you for twenty minutes, right at this instant, it would be the filthiest, steamiest twenty minutes you've ever seen and you would remember it for the rest of your life.

Missing all of your body parts altogether,

Morgan

**Codex-transmitted letter from Scholar Jess Brightwell to Obscurist Magnus Morgan Hault, 1.5 hours later**

As soon as wardrobe permits, I hope the Obscurist Magnus will share with me any details she has on the last topic she mentioned in her last Codex message. This appears to be research most worthy of followup.

And just as an aside, Morgan, do you handle transmission of your outgoing personal messages? Or does someone at the Tower (read and) transmit for you?

Scholar Brightwell 

**Codex-transmitted letter from Obscurist Magnus Morgan Hault to Scholar Jess Brightwell, six hours later**

Jess,

I send my messages myself. As the bulk of our most private content tends to originate from me, I have not pursued keeping your end entirely private yet, though there are only two Obscurists I have assigned to cover all of your correspondence, personal and professional. So they're the only ones who would see anything you write. I have instructed them of the possibility of explicit content and they both understand the risks of monitoring the communication of a devoted couple. If you want to revisit your communication infrastructure we can, though that would be easier to experiment with in person.

The scenery here has been breathtaking -- the most beautiful mountains I could imagine. How extraordinary it must be to live around such majestic creations. I don’t know how to describe the sensation of being near them. But I think if church had ever truly moved me, it might have felt a little like this. I cannot wait to bring you back here for a visit. As soon as we have time for a trip together (and I can’t fathom when that might be), you must come here with me. I want to find out if you feel it. I want you to tell me what running on these mountains is like (while I’m still in bed waiting for you to return). I want some tea with you in a cozy little cabin to ourselves.

As to that other matter. You should know, the last three desks I've worked at have been enclosed all around. It's the new style everyone loves, and they're quite roomy underneath. Someone could sit comfortably down beneath the desk surface without any trouble, and without being seen. The opening my chair slides into is also wide enough that i can swivel my thighs out to a 180 degree relationship with one another. I greet staff, visiting Scholars and dignitaries from such a desk all the time, and none would be the wiser to a Scholar paying his respects under the desk as business was discussed. No one - save the High Garda staff who check it every time I re-enter the room - need know someone was down there. 

I am certain we can accomplish that particular scenario once we’re both in the same room with a desk. But I do imagine my greater ideal would be more complex to enact: somehow receiving people as I leaned forward through a small curtained aperture, so that I could be accessed from behind for any length of time desirable. It would take some obscure historical instances being repopularized to truly get away with such diplomatic decorum. I'm some time away from managing this one, but I've not given up on it yet.

But those are, in fact, digressions from your original request, which I believe involved details of what I would do, given private access to your body for twenty minutes. While you know I'm not one to feel restrained by a preset plan, I will tell you that my most common imagined agenda of such an event is as follows:

Step one: Get your trousers unfastened, preferably with you near a hard surface but not yet adjacent to it, so I can throw you against it first. You make a delicious gasping-grunting sort of sound if I catch you unawares with that move.

Step two: Once trousers are unfastened, get your cock down my throat as quickly as possible. I've been practicing a softening of my gag reflex with a popular frozen treat they have around here. I know you say I'm doing fine on this manner but I'm certain I can improve, and I think you'll already see a difference.

(Shall I pause here, now that wardrobe permits, and talk about how much I love your cock? I could list adjectives of sleek and mouth-watering and velvet hard and it still doesn't describe how it makes me feel. Please recall that feeling that you and Dario both talk about, when you climb into those new vehicles you race, and there's a rumble under your feet that travels up your whole self. Don’t you say something like, it's such a smooth and low vibration, and it connects directly to this deep thrill of freedom and moving fast? I feel that every time I think of your cock. 

But back to my plan now.)

Step three: Have my nails already prepared for easy anal penetration, and get at least one finger into you, which I know you know we've been practicing in combination with the oral pleasuring. At this point, I just keep my nails that length, honestly. No reason to do otherwise. One must be prepared.

Step four: Now this step depends on precisely how much privacy we've managed. It involves you coming either on my chest (garment-dependent and potentially hairstyle-dependent), in my mouth (in that case, we need to then coordinate you eating me out as well) or in my cunt, should privacy permit that position. It's entirely possible that we could someday again be alone together behind a locked door. But should that not be possible, I have a variety of ideas that would keep either you or I presentable - perhaps through a carriage window - while we're making love. Yes, this is the inspiration for my earlier scenarios of sex with subterfuge. And yes I'm willing to try any of them - and risk discovery in the process - if it means the difference between us fucking and not fucking. 

I want to make clear, I'm not joking in my prioritizing of this activity, Scholar Brightwell. Prepare yourself accordingly in time for our next meeting!

All my love,

Morgan

**Codex-transmitted message from Scholar Jess Brightwell to Obscurist Magnus Morgan Hault, 30 minutes later**

Jesus Christ, Morgan. Where are we on making Copenhagen happen?

Jess

**Followup Codex-transmitted message from Scholar Jess Brightwell to Obscurist Magnus Morgan Hault, 5 minutes later**

Wait, who are these Obscurists running my communication?? Have I met them?

Jess

**Codex-transmitted letter from Obscurist Magnus Morgan Hault to Scholar Jess Brightwell, twelve hours later**

Annis hand-picked the Obscurists running your communication. You haven't met either of them, I don't believe, but we can arrange that if you like. One of them gave me the name of the rope expert we met with, after transmitting your side of our conversation about that.

I’ve had some other ideas too, that I want to share with you. These don’t center on quick encounters of ours, so we probably have plenty of time to discuss them before we have anything resembling time to act on them. But I do wish to get your thoughts on a few curiosities I’ve come across in some of my research. One involves candle wax, another a very particular kind of horseless saddle. (This is not to pressure you, but the second is in the category of Ideas Thomas Might Be Suited To Helping With. But we don’t have to rush into that. We can approach that whenever you’re ready.)

We’ve been on a train for hours. We’ll be on a train for another two days. Communication might get spotty. Whatever happened to the superfast train? Whatever happened to Curators’ privilege on fancy new inventions? Despite having no pleasant memories of trains, I still wish you were here underneath me.

Morgan

  
  
  
  


**Codex-transmitted letter from Scholar Jess Brightwell to Obscurist Magnus Morgan Hault, three days later**

Please don't tell me which Obscurists are reading my communication. We can leave all that as it is for now.

Somewhere in between the sex we managed in the public park last visit, and imagining myself servicing you as you and the Archduke of Somewhere hammer out a life-saving treaty, the idea of Thomas getting involved in sex toys for us got less weird. Let’s revisit that next time you’re back in town. I’m sure you’ll have some inspiration that gives him a challenge he enjoys.

I’m back in Japan and I can’t wait to bring you. They have the most extraordinary cherry trees here, with magical blossoms covering them. There are mountains, so you'll have to come see what you think of these too. I visited the temple again, the one I told you about. They have a practice here that changes the way my head feels sometimes. It's a sort of stillness like you inspire, the quiet that my head finds when you touch me. A peace that tells me it's okay to stop worrying and planning for a minute. I hope I can bring you one day.

I adore you, Morgan. I miss every inch of you.

I want to be sure that you know - that you see me say - I love everything you write. Some topics… I’m just no good at putting into words. You have a lot of gifts I don’t, and I’m thankful for every one of them. And I suppose I want to make that clear, so that any absence of certain topics, in my letters doesn’t feel like a lack of interest in anything mentioned. It’s not. And it’s not about anyone reading them. You're simply better at writing these things down. I don't know how you do it. But I like it. 

You should also know I reread your letters and, I guess I could say, enjoy myself. A lot.

All my love,

Jess

**Codex-transmitted letter from Obscurist Magnus Morgan Hault to Scholar Jess Brightwell, two days later**

Copenhagen. For three full days. Alone. Starting a week from today.

My transportation captain will send details. Clear your schedule. I’ll be there two days past those as well, taking some meetings. Clear those too if you can.

**Codex-transmitted letter from Obscurist Magnus Morgan Hault of the Great Library of Alexandria to Her Majesty, the Queen of France**

Your Majesty,

May God's glory shine bright for a new and restored France, for your guidance of her future and for her love of knowledge, now and forevermore.

Your Majesty, it was a great honor that you could join me in Copenhagen for a visit. Your generosity in meeting me is a reminder of the great love shown around the world to a Library returned to its oldest traditions of love and passion for the world.

It is my great hope that the bond we built, and the plans we made across that desk loaned to us for this task, lift us up to reach our highest aspirations, and guide us toward securing an ecstatic future of love, peace and knowledge for all. I hope my great love for your country shone through in my eyes, my mouth, my demeanor as we spoke. It is a great gift, the chance you and I have to repair the damage done by past Curias. 

I give you my humblest thanks and admiration, and I look forward to us bringing the people we serve into a bright new peak of glory together.

Yours,

Morgan Hault

Great Library of Alexandria


End file.
